We hadn't intended on visiting Belgrade, but after enjoying ourselves so much in Nis, we added the capital city to our itinerary, and arrived one afternoon via bus.
We were at once struck by the cosmopolitan atmosphere. This is a city that has been through many struggles in the last few decades, yet it is evident they are moving forward vigorously. Not every building has been brought to the standards of the twentieth century, but this makes for a very interesting juxtaposition - posh restaurants next to tired looking apartment complexes. But posh indeed many were! There were a multitude of coffee shops and bars that made me gape in wonder at their dazzling interiors and classy customers. Clothed in jeans and hiking shoes I only dared to take a photo from the door, but was glad they existed all the same.
In order to better understand Belgrade's history and culture, we joined a Free Walking Tour. These tours are common in many European cities, and are generally a wonderful introduction. Our guide this time, however, was a bit lacking in charisma - he was, well, rather blah. What he did do, was introduce us to the Belgrade Fortress and Skadarlija. The Fortress will provide you with expansive views of the city and the two rivers it's built around, while Skadarlija a casual but artsy environ in which to sip rakkia and ruminate on the meaning of life.
Our first time entering our apartment complex, I was surprised to find a woman in her sixties upon a thin mat on one of the landings, seemingly at home. There were stacks of newspapers lining the wall behind her, insulation against the cold stones. As homeless individuals are not generally allowed to sleep inside buildings, I was a bit surprised. Perhaps the other tenants saw she was no nuisance, and so let her be; certainly her belongings and personage were very orderly.
I became rather preoccupied with this woman, worrying over her incessantly the next few days. She was always reading when I passed, lifting her face only enough to offer a "Dobar Dan"(good afternoon). She had smooth skin, strong teeth, and clear eyes; and so I guessed losing her home was a somewhat recent misfortune. "How did she end up sleeping on a landing?" "Where was her family?"
A cold front arrived our third day and she began to line the inside of her shoes with newspaper. And so on the fourth, I brought a gift. Thick socks to address a need I could see, financial help for needs I could not see, and colorful macarons for a bit of indulgence. I had a premonition charity would be difficult to accept, so I hoped she would be away from her mat, and I could leave it anonymously. She was there, however. I smiled and handed her the bag with a quick, "A gift for you!" while starting up the next flight of stairs. My nerves had begun to fail, and I wished to depart hastily.
She drew out the bag's contents and responded in almost perfect English, "Oh no, this is too much, I can not accept!"
"Please do," I responded, "It is only a small gift from my family. You speak English!" She took a moment to gain control of her emotions while I mounted another step.
A smile broke on her face and her head bobbed up and down.
"Yes, I speak English! I learned in school. I am not so good anymore, I do not have practice, but one day I hope the opportunity to learn more!"
A dozen thoughts swirled round in my head. This woman possessed only a thin mat to lie on, yet she entertained hopes to better her English. What courage! What optomism! It was too much for me to process. I should have stayed. I should have promptly sat down and asked her questions, but instead I only gave a smile and handed out the standard, "God Bless," and something akin to "Take Care," except I meant those simple words with everything in me. I might not know her story, but I know someone who does.
"You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways...For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb..." Psalm 139
Throw hard objects at Muja? Good Lord, no! I wanted to throw a coronet of flowers upon his head, blow him kisses, shake his hand - something to show my admiration for his resilience - his venerable age! Muja, Muja, you dear old creature, you!
White must be Belgrade's color. The Church of Saint Sava gleams brilliantly day and night, capturing the eye even from a great distance. The cathedral is the largest Serbian Orthodox Church in Europe and is truly immense. Due to a century of almost constant upheaval, the interior is still under construction, but the crypt has been recently finished, and is open for viewing.
After dinner one night, Adam struck up a conversation with the chef and his friend while paying for our meal. Small talk quickly developed into a conversation about the Kosovo conflict, and how Americans and Serbians now view each other. Adam invited them to return to our table and share what life has been like the two decades since. We enjoyed their company immensely and appreciated the hospitality offered in the form of their national drink. Plans were made to meet the proceeding night to partake of traditional fare at a favorite restaurant of theirs, Lovac.
Unfortunately, I was not able to join the next night, as it was too late in the evening to leave our kids. Marco introduced Adam to dishes we have since ordered many times, and the company and cuisine will never be forgotten. Our many thanks to Marco and his fascinating city, Belgrade.
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